Before We'd Begun
by darkpartofmydestiny
Summary: Still working in London, Emily receives an unexpected invitation to Beth and Hotch's wedding, in only two months. Unable to admit her feelings to anyone, or the real reason she ran so far, she tries to move past her "crush" and put on a brave face. Some bad language, drinking, and light comedy. In Progress.
1. Red Wine

_Friday 5th July, 2013. 7:30pm GMT_

After a long, complex day at the office, Emily Prentiss arrived home. She still wasn't quite used to calling this one bedroom flat in Waterloo her home, but it was comfortable enough. Although she had been desperate to get out of DC, that didn't mean that her decision was one that held no regret. She felt the loss of her Quantico family constantly, a dull ache at the best of times, a sharp stab at the worst. Throwing herself into her new position at Interpol had helped, and she had developed friendships, but none that could ever come close to those she held closest to her heart.

Technology was the one thing that kept her tied to Washington, and although they were all busy with equally time consuming careers, the BAU tried their best to keep Emily in the loop, and she bestowed them with stories of her "spiffing" life in a different capital. Garcia was the most frequent in her correspondence, sending e-mails every day (both long and short, depending on her work load), and arranging Skype calls every week. Morgan and JJ were good too, sending IMs whenever they could. Reid was consistently techno-phobic and sent her letters once a month. Rossi called her whenever he remembered. Hotch had sent brief, formal e-mails a couple of times at the start, but they had petered out. Emily tried to pretend she didn't mind, that Hotch had enough to do and she'd catch up with him when she visited DC some time.

Seeing the Houses of Parliament every day instead Congress had taken some getting used to, although she had been relieved to find that her sarcasm and dry sense of humor fitted in perfectly with her English co-workers, who insisted on calling her "the Yank" whenever she spelt something without a u, or called the "tube" the "subway".

She was happy. Really she was. However, as well as things were going for her, she couldn't get one thing out of her mind. Well - one person.

As she unlocked the door and pushed it open, she bent down to pick up the stack of mail that was lying all over the doormat (why didn't the English have mailboxes? She wondered). Sifting through them, her heart began to beat faster when she saw all too familiar handwriting on the front of a thick, cream envelope. Closing her eyes, she flipped the envelope over and began to open it, pulling out what was inside. She didn't have to open her eyes to know what was in her hands. Reluctantly forcing her eyes open, she read the thick, gilded words written in cold on the card. She sighed, as she caught sight of her own name, written in Hotch's handwriting:

_Emily Prentiss_

And beneath it, in swirling gold letters;

_Aaron Hotchner and Beth Clemmons request the honor of your presence at their marriage on 1st September 2013 at.._

She couldn't read anymore. Two months?! They were getting married in two months?! She didn't even know that they were engaged. Was this all some horrible joke, or had the team really been hiding this from her? Throwing the invitation over to the couch, she opened her ridiculously large handbag and wasted several minutes shakily trying to fish her cell (mobile, she reminded herself) out of the abyss. When she finally found it, with trembling fingers she went through her speed dial. Pressing green, she held the phone to her ear, trying to breathe at a normal pace.

"Princess Emily! What a surprise to hear from you this early in the day!"

"PG, why didn't you tell me?" Emily struggled to keep her voice even and breezy, but she knew it was pointless trying to hide anything from Garcia.

"Tell you what? What's wrong, you sound all floopy and I don't like it. Let me shut my door and we can talk, ok?" Emily heard the door clicking shut, and the wheels of Garcia's chair. "Now, what haven't I told you about?"

"About Hotch, being engaged?" Despite herself, Emily felt a hot tear roll down her cheek.

"Hotch is engaged?! What? How do you know this?!" Garcia sounded genuinely shocked, and Emily felt guilty for even believing her friend would hide something like this. Besides, what reason would they have to hide it? Nobody, as far as she knew, thought that Emily saw Hotch as anything other than her ex-boss and friend.

"Because when I got home, a wedding invitation was waiting for me."

"Seriously? I haven't heard a thing, and I normally know if someone in the building's about to cough! Does this mean I'm not invited to the wedding?!" She gave a sudden squeal. "Does this mean you're coming back home?"

"I-I'm not sure."

"What? Why would you miss this? When is it, by the way?"

"September. Just a little short notice, I'm not sure if I'll be able to get the holiday time."

"'Holiday time', just listen to you Little Miss British! But you'll try, right? Because my trip seems like a lifetime ago, and I need some Emily time. We miss you, you know. A year doesn't heal the pain of not having you here to go shopping with. JJ always stops me buying stuff. And I'm sure Hotch really wants you to be there for his special day, even if he didn't bother telling the rest of us yet."

"I was gonna try and get there early in the new year. I just don't think I can come with only two months notice."

"Is that what it's really about, Emily?" Garcia's voice became laced with genuine concern, and Emily had to struggle to keep her nonchalance in tact.

"Yeah, of course! What else would it be about?"

"I'm no profiler, but I know that normally you would drop everything for a friend's wedding. And now you're making lame excuses about not being able to ask for vacation time? I'm not dumb, Emily. I've seen the signs for as long as they've been there. The reason you're so upset is that.." Half way across the world, Emily still recognized the loud, solid knock that echoed from Garcia's office down the phone. "One second." Garcia moved the phone away from her mouth. "Come in, Sir."

From far away, Prentiss heard that low, deep voice that she had been trying to forget for the best part of a year.

"Garcia, I need information on a potential victim..who are you talking to on your personal cell? I don't need to remind you that this is confidential information, and you're on the Bureau's time."

"It's Emily, sir. I'll hang up." The phone moved back to Penelope's face. "Em? I'll call you after work, if that's not too late on your end? And we are not done, okay?"

"Ok, PG. Talk to you later."

She slumped to the floor, defeated by her emotions. Her chest began to heave, and before she knew what was happening, she was sobbing on her doormat, the front door still wide open. Blurry eyed, she gave it a weak shove, hearing it softly click into the latch. Letting the tears fall freely, she felt like she was drowning in her own self pity. And all from a stupid wedding invitation.

* * *

Having recovered slightly from her hysterical reaction, Emily changed into the comfiest, ugliest pyjamas she owned and called the local Chinese take-out and ordered the most greasy, carb-heavy items on the menu. Once it had arrived, she settled down to watch the ultimate "I'm-going-to-die-alone-and-I-want-to-watch-other- people-be-miserable" movie - Titanic. On the table in front of her, she was slightly ashamed to admit, was one of those novelty wine glasses that fit an entire bottle of wine inside. And it was full.

As Jack helped Rose back over the bars of the ship, Emily was feeling considerably happier. Which had nothing to do with the fact the enormous glass in front of her was now half empty. Snuggling deeper under the blanket she kept on the sofa - even though it was supposedly summer, London was still chilly - she sighed happily. She stretched her feet out, frowning when something hard was forced down the space in her toes. "Ouch!" She leaned forward, moved the blanket and peered at her feet. Shit. It was that stupid, stupid wedding invite that caused all this drunkenness and self pity. Emily had almost forgotten about it, and now it all flooded back to her in a wave of misery and nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol and grease combining in her digestive system. She threw the card as far away from her as she could, and sunk back down under her blanket, and turned Titanic up as loud as she could to try and drown her own thoughts (no pun intended).

Just then, her phone began to ring, blaring out the "ironic" ringtone Penelope set to play whenever she called.

_"Hey I just met you..and this is crazy..but here's my number.."_

"Hey PG. 'Sup?"

"'Sup indeed, my homegirl. Hey, is that the doomed romance of Jack and Rose I hear in the background?"

"Uhuh, it sure is." Emily appeared to have lost control of her tongue, and her words were coming out heavy and slurred.

"Woah, someone's been hitting the vino! Say your last name."

"What? That's stupid. You're stupid."

"Say it."

There was silence, and Emily could almost hear Garcia smirking over the phone.

"Prentiff."

"Knew it. You're drowning your sorrows."

"Am not."

"Are too. Titanic, red wine, and I bet you ordered Chinese food too, right?"

"..Shut up."

"I'm sorry my dear, but the Oracle of Quanitco sees and knows all. You okay, honey bunch?"

"Never better." She said, pausing Titanic and getting up off the couch, grabbing her wine for good measure. "You?"

"Fine. Got home and found the invite in my mail box, as expected. I spoke to the others, they had no idea, except Rossi who said Hotch told him a couple months ago. He's Best Man."

"Really? Tha's great." _New game_, she thought, _drink every time you pretend to be happy about something to do with the wedding._ She took a big gulp of her wine, and caught sight of her black teeth in the reflection from the glass. Sexy.

"Yeah, he seemed pretty pleased about it. You've gotta come, right? How can you miss dirt on what Hotch does when he's off duty that Rossi is bound to share in his speech?"

"I really don' think I'll be able to make it.."

"You haven't even asked yet. C'mon, Em. I know what's going on."

"What, that I have a verrrry busy life? Doesn' take a genius, Pen."

"More than that, my boozy one. You're upset that Hotch is getting hitched."

"No, no, I'm verrry happy for him." _Drink._

"You're sure?"

"100% sure. If I can get time off, I'll be there." _Drink._

"Well, good, because I happened to be in the vacation, sorry-" Garcia affected a cut glass English accent "_holiday_ database of your office, and it seems you have two weeks booked off starting August 25th, to allow for jet lag. Wonder how that happened?" Garcia sang down the phone at her. "But, baby, I can cancel it all if you really, really can't face it? I know you've always had a little thing for Hotch, but we all want to see you and I know Hotch wants you there, even if he is the world's crappiest communicator. But seriously, just say the word and you'll be working in Paraguay the week of the wedding."

Emily took a deep breath, and prepared to finish the glass.

"No, no, Paraguay won't be necessary. I'll be there. Better get a new dress!" With that, she downed her drink.

"Well, ok. I'll let you get back to Titanic. If you need me - call. Anytime."

"Thanks, PG. Ciao!" She clicked the phone shut, and pressed fast forward. No more love, time for some misery.

* * *

Several hours and a bottle of wine later, Emily sat cross legged on her bed stalking ex-boyfriends on Facebook. It wasn't big, and it certainly wasn't clever, but making herself feel better about not ending up with any of these losers was truly making her feel better. She'd had a quick IM session with JJ, who'd expressed total shock at Hotch's sudden news (even speculating that Beth might be pregnant) until Emily made her excuses to sign off, lurking on "appear offline" until JJ had written a status that she was going to bed. Turning chat back on, Morgan had said a quick hello, but talked about normal things, like a woman he'd met in a bar the other night and the new self defense class he was thinking of teaching. Emily typed carefully, probably too carefully, and if he knew she was drunk, he didn't say anything. He said goodbye mercifully quickly, and she was left staring at her news feed.

A few games of Tetris, looking at cat videos and some more drunk snooping later, Emily looked at the clock blinking 4:00 and thanked heavens that it was the weekend and she'd have peace to wallow in her inevitable hangover. She stretched out and placed her laptop to the side of her bed, and crawled under the covers. Grabbing the remote from her bedside table, she turned the TV on and watched some weird late-night show, complete with a man at the side doing sign language. _Do deaf people only watch TV in the middle of the night?_ She drunkenly mused to herself. Suddenly, her computer pinged, and she grabbed at it, almost dropping it. She squinted at the screen, hoping that it was a drunken hallucination.

**Aaron Hotchner: **Emily?

She blinked. Hotch never IMd, and she'd completely forgotten he even had a facebook.

**Emily Prentiss: **Heyyy.

Ok, that was way too y-heavy to appear sober.

**Aaron Hotchner: **How are you?

**Emily Prentiss:** Dandy, thnk you. An you?

_Missing letters. Great, Emily, way to go. Sober as a nun._

**Aaron Hotchner:** Very well, thank you.

**Emily Prentiss: **Jack ok?

**Aaron Hotchner: **He's doing great, thank you.

**Emily Prentiss: **Gd, gpad to heaaer that.

**Aaron Hotchner:** You're up late. It must be, what, 4AM in London?

**Emily Prentiss:** Uhuh.

**Aaron Hotchner: **Trouble sleeping?

**Emily Prentiss: **Jusft gkot in, actuially.

_Must make it seem like I'm actually an interesting person, rather than a self pitying spinster who sits home drinking wine and watching Titanic on a Friday night, _Emily thought, taking a deep glug of wine, not that she needed it.

**Aaron Hotchner: **That explains the poor typing skills then ;)

**Emily Prentiss: **Dd you jus ;) at me SSA Hotchnerr?

**Aaron Hotchner:** I'm trying out these smiley things, Beth told me I IM like an old man writing to his attorney.

**Emily Prentiss: **I happsjfen to like writging to atteorneys

**Aaron Hotchner:** I think you might need to go get some sleep, Prentiss.

**Emily Prentiss: **Proabbyly.

**Aaron Hotchner: **Before you go, I just want to make sure your invitation arrived safely?

**Emily Prentiss: **Yesfs it did, cheers. Thast what Englishg people say, it meandjs tahnsk you.

**Aaron Hotchner:** I'm glad. I hope you can make it, we'd both love to see you there.

**Emily Prentiss: **I'kll teyry my verry best!

**Aaron Hotchner:** Goodnight, Prentiss

**Emily Prentiss: **Gnidght Hotch.

Emily noticed that her wine glass, which was at least a third full at the start of the conversation, was now empty.

Tomorrow was going to hurt.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! This is only going to be a 4-5 part story max, so hopefully I shouldn't take too long updating. If anyone's wondering what's happened to my other story, I had a major laptop disaster back in May and lost LOADS of stuff and am just having a very busy time and haven't been able (or felt like) to rewrite it all yet, but don't give up on me!  
**

**Anyway, if you want to, please leave a review, I'd love to hear from you!  
**


	2. Old Times

Saturday, 6th July, 2013. 6PM GMT.

Almost 12 hours later, and she could still barely open her eyes. Oh God. So. Much. Wine. She'd woken up at midday to throw up, and then fell straight back into her hangover-coma as soon as she lay down on the bed. _Jesus, Emily,_ she scolded herself,_ you're a 40 year old woman, not some 18 year old freshman the day after a keg party. You're meant to be sophisticated and aloof. _

She pulled her laptop up to the bed, and opened it to find that she'd been on Facebook. She'd always been a fairly proficient drunk IMer, with an internal filter that seemed to work even when seriously inhibited by alcohol. However, she was definitely not expecting to see Hotch's profile in her sent messages. Ohh no. Clicking onto the message, she quickly flicked through the conversation to make sure she hadn't embarrassed herself in front of her former superior. So far, nothing too bad - just that questionable "I happen to like writing to attorneys" comment, which didn't really make too much sense but seemed to be drunk-Emily's attempt at flirtation.

The question she couldn't help but ask herself was pathetically girly - why had he messaged her first?! That's what surprised her most - months with hardly any contact at all, and he messages her on the day she received an invitation to his wedding? Sure, it might just be to check that it had made its way over the Atlantic okay (as much as she wished it had fallen in and got swallowed up by a passing whale), but it just seemed un-Hotch like. Couldn't he just wait until the RSVP?

Still a little woozy, she clicked the type bar. He was offline, so she could just do a little casual message, and then wait for him to reply. If he ever checked it, that is. Not that she'd be sitting by the computer checking every two minutes.

**Emily Prentiss:  
**_Hey, Hotch. Just wanted to apologize for my weak conversation (and typing!) skills last night - my London colleagues sure know how to have a good time! It was nice to hear from you anyway, despite my delicate condition. Just to let you know that I'm not sure if I'll be able to attend your wedding, what with getting time off and all, but of course I'll let you know ASAP so I don't screw up table plans or anything like that. I really am happy that you invited me, I know that we haven't spoken much since I've moved over here, so if I can get time off, it will be great to see you, and Beth, of course. You guys must be so excited. Jack too. I bet Garcia's out right now buying the biggest hat she can find._

_Take care._

She leaned back from the screen, reading the words over and over before she could bring herself to press enter. If she was still playing her game from last night, which she was thoroughly glad she wasn't, she'd be mighty drunk by now from all her false peppiness and enthusiasm. Closing the laptop, she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower, turning the water to a scalding heat to try and wash away all her negative feelings. As she washed her hair, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift away to nothing, focusing only on the sound of water hitting the walls around her, and dripping down her face.

After her shower, Emily felt considerably more relaxed. Maybe yesterday had just been shock - sure, she had a thing for Hotch, but things had moved on. She lived in a different country, had different friends, did different things. There were plenty of men who'd asked her out since she'd been here, maybe she should just be more open to seeing someone, less attached to her work. Emily moved to her dressing table and opened the drawer where she kept her hair dryer. As she closed the drawer, her eyes moved to one of the many framed pictures cluttering the table's surface.

* * *

It was from JJ's wedding, a month or so before she had left to go to London and only a few days before she'd handed in her official resignation. Garcia had given her the framed photo as part of her leaving present, and it was one of the few pictures of the team together at a happy occasion. All the BAU, JJ looking lovely in her dress, together, a family. Hotch was smiling, for once, and had pulled Prentiss in close to him, which explained her wide and carefree grin. Wine had been consumed by all, which explained the flush on everyone's faces. JJ's wedding had been such a beautiful night, although Emily's mind had been distracted by the decision she was about to make. Seeing one of her closest friends marry the love of her life, and spending such a magical night with her team, made her decision even harder, knowing what she would be leaving behind.

Dancing with each member of her team was like an internal goodbye - holding them close, laughing with them, murmuring quietly in their ear how much they meant to her. When Dave stepped aside to allow Aaron to dance with her, everything she had been trying to deny suddenly seemed clear to her. She loved him. This was no juvenile crush, or feelings that were a result of spending too much time in close confines; it was real, gut wrenching love that she wished more than anything would go away. They had never danced together like this, and as he lead her in a soft, gentle dance she was sure he could feel her heartbeat. All she could focus on was him; the way he smelt, the way his slightly calloused hands felt clasped in hers, and the way his breath delicately fluttered on her neck. Moving her eyes upwards, she focused on his smiling face. He had been smiling all evening, and his features completely changed when he was smiling like that - his eyes crinkled, he looked relaxed and just.. happy.

After their dance finished, Hotch returned to Beth, and the way he looked at her was totally different to the way he looked at Emily. Emily tried not to look as they twirled and dipped, laughing and joking together and looking like the perfect couple. More and more wine had been consumed, and by the end of the night she was feeling significantly less jealous, and significantly more drunk. The rest of the evening was a happy blur and focused on celebrating JJ and Will's special day.

The next afternoon, Hotch had turned up at her apartment to talk to her, a move that was completely unexpected. They sat and had coffee, while she told him all of her doubts about staying with the BAU, the need she felt to go away and start something fresh and how the Interpol offer was too good to turn down. They had spoken for hours, and she felt like she finally knew him in the way she had always wanted to. His stoic exterior had broken down, and they spoke honestly and frankly with each other. The only thing Emily couldn't tell him was that part of her desperation to escape was caused by the burden of loving him.

When he left, he held her close to him, something that was alien to both of them. She clung to him like a child, and rested her cheek against his chest. His arms tightened around her back, and for a second she could have sworn he smelt her hair.

"Emily," he spoke softly, his cheek resting on the top of her head "I will always be around for you to talk to, whatever decision you make. I know that you'll make the best choice, you're too smart not to. I must say, it'll be a damn shame to lose you." Despite herself, her breath hitched a little, and he hurriedly added "From the team." She moved back from his embrace, and smiled.

"I guess I'm just ready for a new challenge. And the position with Interpol does sound like a great opportunity. And London's a great city."

"It is. You'll have a great time, and you'll excel there, just as you have here."

"Thanks, Hotch." He gave a smile that reached his eyes. "You know, you almost look handsome when you smile properly." She teased, and he laughed.

"Thanks. I better go, Beth's watching Jack for me." Emily's smile wavered slightly, and she knew Hotch had caught it. "I'll see you Monday."

"Monday. Bye. Thanks for coming over."

"Anytime." With a final wave, he walked out the door, and Emily shut the door behind him.

* * *

Hours later, after another vomiting session, and another shower, Emily changed into clean, less ugly pajamas and took her laptop into the living room. Fixing herself a large cup of coffee, she settled down to watch a rerun of Downton Abbey. She began to pull up a report she had to work on on her computer, when she heard that familiar ping from Facebook. Heart beating like an excited teenage girl's, she clicked onto the internet. She hovered over the message icon, not sure if she even wanted to see his face. Finally, she decided to man up and clicked on it. It didn't surprise her at all that his IM was formatted like a traditional letter.

**Aaron Hotchner  
**_Emily,_  
I_ hope that you are feeling better now - good thing that you weren't at home, or you might have taken advantage of that huge wine glass Dave got you as a joke when you left. I am pleased to hear that you are enjoying socializing with your colleagues. The team certainly notices your absence when we socialize together. Just RSVP when you can, I know how hectic your schedule must be. I've already arranged for another team to cover for the week of the wedding to make sure no last minute cases come up, and Morgan will act as team leader while I am away on my honeymoon. I'm sorry that there is such little notice for you, but Beth wanted to get married as soon as possible. We got engaged last month, and kept it quiet until the date had been set. You know that I don't like a fuss. Jack is very excited, he's going to be Assistant Best Man, a title that he made up last week.  
_

The message ended abruptly, causing Emily confusion, until she noticed the words "Aaron is typing.." at the bottom of the window. Holding her breath and her reply, she waited eagerly to see what would come through next.

_I'm sorry that contact between us has been irregular for the past few months. I have been very busy, but that's no excuse. I value your friendship, and your presence at my wedding would mean everything to me._

Another pause.

_I meant what I said before you left, that I am always here for you to talk to. Just because you are no longer with the Bureau does not mean that you are not important to me._

_The team._

_What I actually wanted to let you know last night is that I'll be in London for three days in August, giving a presentation at Scotland Yard. If you're around and not too busy, we could have dinner?  
_Emily stared at the screen, her arms frozen by her side. It was one thing to _go _to Hotch's wedding, which might help give her closure in some weird, unlikely way. To have him here, in the same city, after all this time and unhealthy suppression of feelings was something she wasn't sure she could bear.

_Prentiss, I know you're there, there's a little thing next to the message saying that you read it two minutes ago.  
_

Knowing she'd been well and truly busted, Emily began to type her response.

**Emily Prentiss:**

_Sorry, I was just on the phone._

_Just let me know what evening you'd like to get together for dinner and I'll clear it in my diary._

_I've just been told that I've got vacation clearance so I will be attending your big day!_

_I'm sorry I haven't been in touch either, everything's so busy here! Busy busy busy, that's me._

God, why did everything she said have to sound so false and forced?!

_I've got to go and work on a report that's due Monday. E-mail me the dates._

_Emily  
_

And then, her fingers took on a life of their own, and she added an_ "x" _for no discernible reason_._

**Aaron Hotchner:**

_Ok, I'll do that._

_Bye._

_P.S. Garcia's already sent me a link to her "hat". It's fluffy and has butterflies on. I'm hoping it's a joke.  
_

**Emily Prentiss:**

_She's already emailed me a picture of her wearing it. She's not joking._

* * *

The rest of the weekend was mercifully uneventful, and Emily felt human again on Sunday. She spent the day finishing reports and arranging her diary for the week ahead. She was relieved to see that her schedule was packed - no time for any dwelling or social networking whatsoever. Using her last free day for the week, she cleaned her entire apartment (_flat, Emily, flat!_) and scrubbed some of the wine stains that had "mysteriously" appeared on Friday night off the carpet. Under the sofa, she found the piece of paper that had caused that whole drunken mess. At some point in her drunken state, she had drawn devil horns on the "B" and the "H" of Beth's name, and a rather charming illustration of flies buzzing round her surname. Emily was nothing if not mature and dignified when drunk, with all the finesse of a pre-pubescant teenage girl.

Rooting for her diary in her giant work handbag, she flipped it to the week of the wedding and marked the weeks she would be back in Virginia off with a large score through all the days, writing "Vacation", and then on Sunday 1st September, she wrote in the smallest letters she could manage "_Hotch's wedding". _

_Yeah, _Emily thought_, because writing the words really small will somehow mean this isn't happening._

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the second chapter, thanks everyone for your follows, favourites and reviews. I'm trying a new thing where I don't upload until I have the next chapter planned and started (although I haven't actually done this yet..) so you won't all have to wait and to make sure I finish this story. So, if you enjoyed this chapter please drop me a review, I love hearing from my readers and getting feedback. Bye!  
**


	3. New Friends

_Wednesday, 10th July. International Cybercrime Conference, Birmingham, England. 11AM GMT._

Emily doodled on her notepad. Conferences rarely bored her, but today she was almost asleep. She already knew most of the "breakthroughs" they were discussing, as she had made it her business to do as much research as she could fit in before she attended these things, and the speakers had nothing new to say. The journey on a packed early morning train hardly seemed worth it now. She'd have to stay till the end, as her senior position with Interpol commanded. Five more hours of this tedium before she could catch a rush hour train back to London, then put in some overtime in the office. Great.

An hour later, the conference stopped for lunch. Standing in a surprisingly crowded room with a few tables with sandwiches on, Emily contemplated making a run for it. As she walked towards the door, she was intercepted by a familiar face, a woman she knew vaguely from interactions with Scotland Yard.

"Emily Prentiss!" The woman, who Emily couldn't name, exclaimed, seemingly with genuine enthusiasm. "Great to see you here." The woman's English accent was ridiculously posh, and Emily couldn't even place where it originated. Somewhere wealthy, obviously.

"Um, you too! How are you?"

"Great, great. How are you enjoying the conference?" Emily took a quick glance at her name badge and sighed with relief. _Susanne Lewis._

"It's, um, really great. You, Susanne?"

"Well, I'm really here in an organisational capacity, I've moved to cybercrime at the Yard, you know."

"Oh, great." _Think of another adjective, Emily _she scolded herself internally. Susanne waved across the room, and Emily turned to see who she was waving at. A man who Emily didn't recognise, who was tall, dark and handsome and all the things she didn't want to see right now. He walked quickly across the room, and joined the two women. He smiled at Emily, and held his hand out towards her.

"Have you met Marcus Harper, Emily? Works in Cyber too. Marcus, this is Emily Prentiss, with Interpol. Must dash, I've seen Simon from the Met over there."_ Wow, subtle_, thought Emily, _but I'm not complaining._ She took his hand and shook it, smiling at him. She was pleased to note that he was much taller than her, probably 6'3, maybe even 6'4.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Prentiss. I've heard of you, of course. You're doing a great job with the London office."

"Oh, thank you. Emily, please." _Don't blush, don't blush._ He was looking straight into her eyes, something she loved as it showed a confident man who wasn't intimidated by her, and his hand shake had been firm and strong, another major plus point. She placed him in his late 40s, maybe early 50s. His features were sharp without being harsh, with green eyes that sparkled when he smiled, with small wrinkles at the sides of his eyes. His hair was still mostly black, with a few grey hairs sprinkled throughout. Well, she certainly had a type.

"Are you enjoying the conference?" His accent was delicious, like Colin Firth or some other stereotypical British movie star, and she found herself wanting to get to know him, a feeling that had been alien to her for over three years.

"Yeah, it's great." She lied. "So, you're based in London?"

"I am, but I travel a lot consulting with other institutions on their techniques. I'm sure you're the same."

"Oh yeah, but the travelling's nothing compared to my last job."

"Oh yes, the FBI, right?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"You were the talk of the town when you transferred, especially from such a unique unit. Quite a catch for Interpol, I believe. And I'm familiar with your technical analyst. She caused the Yard quite a bit of trouble in her day." Emily couldn't help but laugh.

"She's fully reformed, I swear. The team couldn't do without her, I have no idea how many lives she's saved."

"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that her skills are being used for good. Prince William had to change his phone number three times."

"Sounds like Garcia alright. So, when are you heading back to London?" She was hoping he'd be hanging around until the end so she'd at least have something pretty to look at in her boredom.

"In about five minutes actually." Emily felt genuinely disappointed, something she shook off. "I'm due back to consult for a press conference. But, and I really hope this isn't too forward, would you meet me for a drink later in the week?" Emily was a little caught off guard, but she nodded, and he handed her his card. "Call me and let me know a night when you're free. I've got to run, but it was lovely to meet you."

"Likewise. I'll give you a call, then."

"I'll be waiting by the phone." He shot her a final, devastating grin and she waved weakly as he walked away.

* * *

Emily arrived back in London around 8PM, and went straight to her office. It was pretty much deserted, and she settled down at her computer to begin writing some reports out. After about an hour, she reached for her bag, fished out her cell and got the business card. Feeling once again like a teenage girl, she quickly dialled the number and moved the phone to her ear. After several rings, and almost hanging up twice, Marcus finally answered.

"_Hello, Marcus Harper speaking?"_

"Hi, Marcus, it's Emily." Her voice was confident and smooth, betraying none of the nerves she felt.

"_Emily, great to hear from you. Enjoy the rest of the conference?"_

"To be honest, not really."

"_I'm not surprised, why do you think I got out of there so quickly?"_

"Lucky you. How'd the press conference go?"

_"It was good, thanks. Went well."_

"So, that drink you suggested.."

"_Ah, to the point, I like it. Very American."_

_"_Thanks."

"_I don't suppose you're free tonight? I know it's ridiculously short notice and it's already nine o'clock, so feel free to say no."_

_"_Actually, I'm at the office and just about to finish, so that would be perfect."

"_Great, I'm in town too. I know a great place in the City, near Bank, can I meet you there in about fourty minutes?"_

"Could we make it an hour or so? I just want to go home to change my shoes."

"_No problem. I'll text you the name. Just let me know when you're on your way."_

"Thanks, Marcus. See you soon."

"_Bye."_

Emily dropped the phone back into her handbag, and sat still for a moment. For the first time in what felt like forever, she had a date, with a normal human being who didn't seem like a complete control freak nutjob. Even though she could feel the distinct flutter of excited butterflies in her stomach, behind that was a feeling of dread. She had used her love for Hotch like an excuse for years, not wanting to let go yet not being able to act upon it. Things had shifted, though - ever since that invitation had arrived, all possibility of ever being with Hotch had been wiped out. Those "possibilities", she knew, had mostly been in her own head, because the man didn't reciprocate her feelings in any way, shape or form. Despite this, the excitement she felt seemed almost a betrayal.

_Snap out of it. You're about to go for a drink with a very sexy, British police officer and you're lamenting something that never happened?_ She chastised herself. _Stop wasting time and go home and look vaguely attractive._

* * *

She arrived at the bar around an hour and fifteen minutes later, after a manic clothes change dry-shampoo, deodorant and putting anything on her face that would make her look like she didn't wake up at 5am session at her flat. She was pretty confident that she actually looked good, and checked her reflection in the shiny black window of the bar before pushing the door open and going inside. Marcus was waiting for her at a small table, and she gave a little wave and walked over. He stood up as she approached, and kissed her lightly on both cheeks. He smelt delicious, of Chanel Bleu cologne and leather. They sat down facing each other, and for a moment an awkward silence so typical of first dates washed over them.

"Hello again." He smiled at her, and she melted a little bit. _See, this was worth the move alone - living in a country where Jude Law-a-likes just wander the streets._

"Hey. Sorry I'm late."

"No problem. You look great, by the way."

"Oh, thanks. Guess I did more than change my shoes when I was home."

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Please. House red, thanks."

"Great. I'll be right back." He walked towards the bar and leaned against it, facing away from her, as he waited to be served. Emily sat back and looked around her, and heard that familiar ring tone reverberate from inside her purse.

"_Hey I just met you.." _She answered the call quickly, before Marcus could hear her embarrassing ringtone and think that it was actually serious.

"PG, I can't talk right now." She whispered into the phone, hoping she could be heard over the din of music and chatter in the bar.

_"What? Why not?"_

"I'm on a date."

_"You are? Well, I will let you go my little lovebird, and expect an email with all the dirty details as soon as this is over."_

"Will do. Bye." She pressed red and the phone call ended. Marcus still hadn't turned around, and she relaxed again. Even if this didn't go anywhere, spending an hour or two with a good looking, charming man would help break down her walls and open her up to actually dating again.

* * *

_Wednesday, 10th July. BAU, FBI Office, Quantico. 5.30PM_

Penelope hung up the phone, a huge grin plastered on her face. Well, well, well, little Miss Emily Prentiss out on a date at last. Penelope had been starting to worry that she'd get lonely in London all by herself, with no boyfriend or old friends or family nearby. There was a familiar knock on the door.

"Enter if you dare!" It was JJ, holding an armful of files.

"Hey, Garcia, I just need you to run these names through, see if any records come up." Garcia took the files and dropped them onto her desk. "Why are you so happy right now?"

"Because, my lovely one, our British beauty is out on a date!"

"She is? Wow, that's a first. What's it been, like a year?"

"More like an eternity."

"Very funny. Emily doesn't have to date to be happy, you know."

"I know, but I don't like thinking of her being lonely. I know she says she's perfectly happy on her own, but there have been a few too many drunk-and-watching-Titanic nights on her end."

"Hey, I wish I could do that. Henry got out of bed when I was watching it one time when Will was working, and asked where the lady's clothes were. So no more Titanic for me." They both laughed. "So, who's the guy?"

"No idea, she literally just told me she was on a date and that was it." Garcia looked at JJ. "What?"

"I have an idea."

"..Why does that sound so potentially naughty?"

"Because it is, and we could get in trouble for it."

"I like the sound of this.."

"Did she tell you where she was?"

"No, but I could easily trace the call."

"Do they have surveillance cameras in England?"

* * *

An hour later, after both women had officially finished work for the day, they were on Garcia's personal laptop trying to hack in to the surveillance footage of some random bar in London.

"OK, bingo!" Garcia squealed. "Jayje, you are such a bad influence. I like it."

"Hey, we're only going to look for a minute, see what the guy looks like, then go home and not spy on Emily any more. Okay?" Garcia said nothing. "Garcia!"

"Yes, fine, fine, no spying on Emily. Okay, let me try and find her.." She did things on the keyboard that looked completely random to JJ, but soon Penelope let out a triumphant "Yesss!"

"Got her?"

"Yes, and thank God for the British upgrading their surveillance systems, you would not believe how grainy they used to be."

"Why were you hacking into British surveillance before this?"

"Let's just say they don't put cameras in Buckingham Palace bedrooms anymore. Ok, zooming in.." The picture showed Emily sitting alone, checking through her emails on her cell. "She's on her own?"

"Maybe he's in the bathroom?"

"I sure hope so. Ok, ok, she's smiling at someone..there he is!" Both women exhaled at the same time.

"Is it me, or does he kind of look like.."

"Kind of? They could be brothers."

There was a loud knock at the door which made both women scream. It opened suddenly, and their superior stood in the doorway.

"Why are you screaming?" Hotch asked, shooting them both a serious look that made them feel like guilty schoogirls. "Garcia, I know you're meant to be going home soon but I just need you to do something for me." Garcia nodded, and moved the laptop on the desk, trying to hide the footage without closing the screen, which would cut the connection out.

"What are you watching?" Hotch asked, curious. "You're both being very suspicious."

"Oh, nothing, Sir. Just some webcam on the internet of kittens."

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "Garcia, I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but when you lie, you scrunch your nose slightly." _Stupid profilers,_ she thought. "What's on the screen?" He reached open and pulled the screen back. "Is that _Prentiss?"_

"Um, yes, Sir." JJ and Garcia replied at the same time, both suddenly finding their shoes very interesting. Garcia shot a look at the screen, and noted that Prentiss and Hotch-a-like were doing that thing couples do on dates where they kind of play with each other's fingers, without quite holding hands. _Ooh, way to go Emily._ She dared to turn her gaze back to Hotch, and if she didn't know better, she would think he looked..jealous.

"Why exactly are you watching Prentiss on a date?"

"Curiosity?" Garcia replied weakly, noticing JJ was keeping her mouth shut.

"Well, I think you need to remember that curiosity killed the cat and give Prentiss some privacy. Also, I will let you off this time, but if I catch either of you pulling something like this again, there will be disciplinary action against you both. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir."

"Thank you. Now, JJ, I need to discuss something with Garcia, if you don't mind?" JJ nodded and left quickly, looking thoroughly relieved to still have a job.

"Sir, I am so sorry about that, it won't happen again.."

"Make sure it doesn't. Anyway, if you wouldn't mind focusing on work, I need you to run a few things for me."

* * *

"They were seriously spying on Prentiss on a date half way across the world? I'll never feel safe on a date again." Morgan lamented, taking a drink from his beer. The men of the BAU were out at a bar, which had been Morgan's idea, to celebrate Hotch's engagement, which had been Rossi's idea. Hotch was definitely not on board with being drunk on a work night, and was nursing the same beer he'd ordered an hour ago.

"D'you think they're watching us right now?" Rossi stage-whispered, and they all laughed, except Hotch.

"Hey, Hotch, what's up?" Morgan asked. "You're lookin' down."

"Huh? I'm fine." He mumbled, taking a small sip of his beer. "This is my normal face."

"Nuh-uh, you've looked like a bulldog chewing a wasp all night."

"Sharing is caring!" Rossi said, raising his glass.

"Nothing to share, Dave." Hotch downed the rest of his drink and stood up. "My round, right?" he asked, and walked over to the bar without waiting for a response.

"Did you notice how when you were talking about Emily, his left eye started to twitch?" Reid asked, taking a drink of his mineral water. "It's his tell."

"Are you so surprised? He's had a soft spot for Emily for years, but he's never done anything about it." Rossi answered. "Not that he even realises it, probably. For a profiler, that man sure is in the dark about his own social signals. Not that it matters anyway. The guy's crazy about Beth. Just a little crush leftover from years of working together."

* * *

**A/N: Aaaand I'm done! I seriously just whacked this out and couldn't stop typing till I was done. I hope you enjoyed it, lots of set up in this chapter so bear with me. If you enjoyed it, let me know with a quick little review. Ciao!**


	4. Lean On Me

**A/N: Flashback and Hotch POV time!**

2009

"Daddy, can you read me the Cat in the Hat again?"

"No, buddy. You've heard it twice already tonight. Time to sleep now."

"I don't want to sleep, Daddy."

Hotch sighed - it had been this way for days, as expected, and he had no idea what to do. Every night, Jack would wake at 4am and climb into his bed, sobbing and mumbling about seeing Mommy in his dreams with the "bad man".

"C'mon, Jack. It'll be better tonight. I'm right here. Nothing bad will ever happen to you. I swear it. Cross my heart." He made a crossing motion over his torso.

"Well, okay. But if the bad man comes, I can go to your room?"

"Of course."

"And you'll make the dreams go away?"

"I'll make them go away. Now, let's tuck you in."

After their bedtime routine was finished, Hotch sat on the couch, the TV playing some crappy reality show that he wasn't watching. He hadn't watched TV since Haley died, but the noise helped to drown out his thoughts. Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door. Instinctively reaching for his gun, he walked to the door and looked through the peephole. Sighing with relief, he unlocked the bolts on the door and opened the door.

"Emily?"

"Hey. I'm sorry, I know it's late, but we just got back from a case, and I wanted to check on you guys." She held out a bag that he hadn't noticed she was holding. "I brought some things for you guys. I know it's cliché, but there is a casserole in there. I confess, I bought it!" He noticed she was rambling slightly, and he found that it put him at ease.

"Well, thanks. Come in, come in." She stepped past him, and he closed the door behind her, making sure to bolt it. He gestured for her to take a seat

"How's Jack?"

"He's doing better. He's gone back to school, but he's still having nightmares and flashbacks, disturbed sleep and bed wetting." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, you don't want to hear about this." He sat down next to her in the couch, and rubbed his temple.

"Hotch, you don't have to hide from me. The team. We're here for each other, and we're all worried about you." She hesitantly reached out and touched the hand resting on his thigh. "You don't need to hold it in with me. Us."

"Honestly, Emily? I don't know what I'm doing. Every night, he cries for his mommy, and I know I'm the reason she's not here anymore. As soon as he finds that out, he's going to hate me for the rest of his life. I can't face that, Emily."

"He won't hate you. You tried so hard to save her, and you saved him. He will never hate you, because you are a great dad."

"Am I? I haven't quit my job, he's already lost his mom now I'm going to be gone most of the time too? I just don't know."

"This was never going to be easy, Hotch. But you will get through this, and things will work out."

"I hope so. I really hope so. Listen, you must be exhausted." He didn't want her to go, but he didn't want her to stay either. Being alone was both a curse and a comfort, but Emily's presence was calming. It was the first time he'd seen a member of the team since they left after Haley's funeral, and having someone he could talk to that could understand him, who knew how private he was about his feelings and didn't pressure him into talking was refreshing. When he'd answered the door, the relief at seeing her, rather than Dave or Morgan, was incredible. They had never been especially close outside work, but he had always admired her, and of course trusted her with his life.

"Not at all. But I'll leave you to it. Heat the casserole in the microwave for 10 minutes, it freezes too."

"Thanks. Why don't you stay? I can put this on, and you can eat with me? You must be hungry."

"Yeah, I am. I don't want to intrude though."

"To be honest..I'm not that crazy about being alone right now. It'd be great to have some company that doesn't want me to read Cat in the Hat."

"Damn, there's my after dinner plans ruined." Hotch felt himself laugh, really laugh, for the first time in so, so long.

* * *

Hotch glanced at the clock on his kitchen counter, and was surprised to see it was already 11:30. The evening had passed quickly, and he felt relaxed and..happy, despite all the trauma that still haunted him. The casserole had turned into wine, and the wine had turned into another bottle of wine. It was the first time in nearly a year where he felt able to let himself go a little, with the fear of Foyet no longer hanging over him. They were both sitting on the couch, and had descended into the kind of happy silence that could only happen between friends.

"I should probably be getting home." Emily broke the silence, and Hotch nodded, his head blurred but still coherent. "I'll call a cab." She reached for her cell in her pocket and flipped it open.

"Don't go." The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them, and Emily looked a little startled.

"I mean.." he slowed his speech so he could think about what he was saying. "I don't want to be alone tonight. I mean, if you don't want to, I can call you a cab right now."

"No, no, it's okay. I know you'd do the same thing for me."

"I hope you never need it."

"We all need it sometimes."

* * *

They stayed up for hours after, talking until the sky started to lighten. Hotch had listened intently for any sign of Jack stirring all night, and checked in on him every half hour, but for the first time since his mother died, Jack had slept peacefully.

"He'll be okay, you know."

"I hope so."

"He's got you. He's got his aunt. And I'm pretty sure his Uncle Dave will kick anyone's ass." They both laughed. "He's got all of us. And we all love him."

"Thanks. It means a lot."

"You won't be alone forever, you know. I know you're scared of that."

"How do you know?"

"I profiled you." She smiled.

"Well, neither will you."

"Believe me, I've given up."

"Well, you shouldn't."

"Hmm, late 30s, really intimidating job that hardly leaves any time to change my underwear, let alone maintain a relationship with a normal human being? Oh yeah, Hotch, I'm a catch."

"Aaron."

"Huh?"

"You can call me Aaron."

"I know, just a habit."

"You are."

"I am what?"

"A catch. You're witty, incredibly intelligent, loyal, and any guy would be lucky to have you." He caught sight of her trying not to laugh. "I'm being serious."

"Well, thanks. I guess. Look at the time. We better get some sleep. You'll be up with Jack in a couple hours, and I've got work. I'll take the couch."

"You sure? I don't mind giving up my bed."

"I don't want Jack to go looking for his daddy and find Miss Prentiss there instead. What a nightmare." He laughed, and went to fetch some blankets for her. He handed them to her, and suddenly she stood up and pulled him into a hug. He pulled her closer to him, resting his head on hers.

"I will never be able to thank you enough for what you've done for me tonight, Emily."

"You don't need to. One day, you'll repay the favor. We're a team - we support each other, good times and bad." He pressed a kiss against her dark hair, and she smiled into his chest. Pulling back, she looked up at him.

"I should get to bed." He took the hint and released her. "Sleep well." He waved tiredly at her and retreated to his bedroom.

That was the night that things between them changed - the night he began to see her as more than just a teammate, and the night he hid his true feelings even from himself.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, had writers block, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! A bit of Hotch perspective into why he might be hiding things..this isn't the last we'll see of the past! Please leave a review if you enjoyed! x**


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